THE POST OF HONOR.
13
No! "Scots wha hae" first thrilled with memories wild
The throbbing bosom of a ploughman's child,
And Ayr and Avon glide as gently still,
Though Burns and Shakspeare top the immortal hill.
The throbbing bosom of a ploughman's child,
And Ayr and Avon glide as gently still,
Though Burns and Shakspeare top the immortal hill.
Yon fountain Nymph, now sparkling through the trees,7
In humble Natick wooed the mountain breeze;
There, 'mid the torrent, nursed in thunders loud
From the dark bosom of the stormy cloud,
Or gentlier fed, when Summer's showery train
In drops of music poured the welcome rain,
Her lot was cast, content to glide along,
Lulled by the ripple of her own sweet song.
The Indian maids, her playmates, passed away,
And still she waited for a brighter day,
Till, all matured, she rose at Duty's call,
And stepped a Naiad in her charmed hall, —
Sprang, crowned with grace, the monarch Elm beside,
And stood in radiant light his young enchanted bride.
In humble Natick wooed the mountain breeze;
There, 'mid the torrent, nursed in thunders loud
From the dark bosom of the stormy cloud,
Or gentlier fed, when Summer's showery train
In drops of music poured the welcome rain,
Her lot was cast, content to glide along,
Lulled by the ripple of her own sweet song.
The Indian maids, her playmates, passed away,
And still she waited for a brighter day,
Till, all matured, she rose at Duty's call,
And stepped a Naiad in her charmed hall, —
Sprang, crowned with grace, the monarch Elm beside,
And stood in radiant light his young enchanted bride.
Be great like Murray, but like Murray feel,
And thrice like him refuse the proffered seal;
And thrice like him refuse the proffered seal;
